


Hoshidan Legends, with Lavender and Hyacinth

by kmdmsh



Series: Ours [1]
Category: Fire Emblem Heroes, Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Books, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Deadly Premonition, Dreams, Dreams and Nightmares, Fantasy, Flower Language, Gen, M/M, Nightmares, Premonitions, Snippets, Spoilers, Vignette, i dont know what exactly this story is, majority of these characters are only mentioned in the story, maybe? - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-22
Updated: 2018-02-22
Packaged: 2019-03-22 14:25:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13766058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kmdmsh/pseuds/kmdmsh
Summary: Maybe it was foolish of him to think that he would come back to his arms like old times, but there is nothing wrong with hope, he tells himself, for it is that very same thing that has pulled him pass so many obstacles - hope for the future and faith for others.Oh, if only he would know just how far hope and faith could go.Chrom, a hero. Robin, a friend. Grima, a wretch. These three don't - should never - mix. Someone decides to do it, anyway.(I'm looking at you, Summoner.)





	Hoshidan Legends, with Lavender and Hyacinth

**Author's Note:**

> "There are better places to take a nap than on the ground, you know?"
> 
> It starts there. From the beginning to the end, the ground is their basis - they are each other's anchors, always putting them back to where they're supposed to be: right next to each other.
> 
> The gods have a funny way of ruining things, though.
> 
> Chrom and Robin have been put apart, never to see each other again until now.

Robin is an enigma, it's a fact to everyone in the Shepherds. Chrom knows this well enough. He has no memoirs of his past, any puzzle pieces that can fit into the mystery of his birth, and any kind of evidence to prove that his abilities are real and not the work of witchcraft on him and his group. The prince remembers how Frederick would warn him on a daily basis about the man, dressed in a cloak with figures out a spell book and always having a crown of snow-white hair. _Do not associate yourself with the stranger, milord,_ Frederick's warning still rings in his head. _Lest you want to fall into this man's trap, I suggest that you stay five spears away from him._

 

The princeling _does_ end up befriending their mystery tactician, bringing up a conversation from time to time until Robin, himself, became part of his merry Shepherds. He remembers the bright smile Robin would wear at the idea of being a part of something and how that same face brought many a question to Chrom's head. He's yet to see that smiling face again, considering how he's been pulled out of his world to another one - too foreign for his own taste, too much empty spaces where Robin could have been.

 

Ah, yes. In a world far different from the one he's grown to, and grown up with people he loves, he wishes that at least he could meet the same one that has engraved their name on his mind. Facts of him never coming to be damned, the truth of him never seeing him to ashes. For once, Chrom wishes to indulge; all he wants right now is to meet him again, far away from the questioning eyes of his people and never worrying about his own responsibility of being Exalt. 

  
  
(If Robin were here, maybe the both of them can shed their weapons and free their capes when the Summoner allows them rest. Their free days will all be warm and soft, no rough edges to ruin it all. It's a wish he wants it to become reality, but alas.)

 

* * *

 

The summoner gives Chrom and his tiny group a day of rest. In his stead, Prince Ephraim would be leading his own group into the snowy fields of Nifl (the more reason for him to be thankful for not going through the cold, he doesn't want to suffer the same way he did in Regna Ferox). The prince decides to take the time to train with his ancestor, Marth (the historians were right, the Archanean Prince is humble and sweet, even to the villains in their group), but even that becomes boring. So, he sits there under one of the many trees in Askr. Falchion lays beside him and he wishes so much how that should be Robin, Robin,  _Robin_ -

 

And Chrom has to shake his head from side to side, a frown on his face as he hides behind his palms. That's all he's been thinking about these days. Just Robin. He wonders why he has to think of their tactician at every moment since being here. Chrom would ask others and then himself, but the answer never really arises. Frederick calls it simply missing a friend. Lissa refers to it as love. The others say different things, yet similar in some regard. The prince pieces all of those answers together tries one more time to find a reason as to why it's always Robin on his mind.

 

Robin, their tactician.

 

Robin, their dear friend.

 

Robin, his other half.

 

_Robin..._

 

Chrom couldn't help but reach his hand out to the sun, expecting for the tactician's gloved one to entwine in his.

 

... If only he's here...

 

* * *

 

_People come and go. People move on. People forget. People are forgotten._

 

_Human minds are unreliable, but that's why we cherish such memories of people in the first place. Especially of those that have left their mark on us. It's the reason why he keeps believing in the first place, in hopes that the same one who has engraved their name on his skin would come back. The facts are damned, the truth may be forgotten._

 

* * *

 

His feet drag himself to the library after he finishes lazing around the courtyard. It's quiet, has something new to read every day. Despite Chrom not being a bookish person himself, he finds the place to provide wonderful solitude to him when he needs it most - when he needs time to think of things or simply read through scriptures to give his mind some ease. There are barely any people when he enters, except for a hooded figure huddling by the corner of the room.

 

No, it's not the summoner. Chrom is sure of that. They wear the purest of white and gold, not the threatening glares of black and purple with Plegian motifs.

 

...

 

_Black and purple?_

 

_Plegian motifs?_

 

_"Robin?"_

 

His voice comes out a bit strained, but Chrom could care less. 'Robin' doesn't turn to him, but the hum he lets out is enough confirmation. "Chrom? Is that you?" 

 

Music to his ears. Reality and fiction twist away upon seeing his figure and Chrom's eyes sparkle upon seeing the sight. He's here. But, since way? Ah. That doesn't matter right now. He's here.

With him.

 

At this moment, all that matters is Robin.

 

Chrom has never been this happy since his arrival in Askr. He takes a step forward but never bothering 'Robin' as he searches through the shelves for something. His hood is up, hiding that snowy crown that he comes to love seeing. "I'm glad that I caught you here! I didn't even think you were here, to begin with."

 

'Robin' chuckles, hands raising up to the top shelves with his fingers simply skimming the spines. "I did not even think I would be called here." The tactician stands on their very toes, trying to reach for a book. Hoshidan Legends, the spine reads. "Oh, I can't reach."

 

"That's why I keep telling you to sleep early. You'll never grow taller if you keep up your owl tendencies." Chrom takes another step forward to 'Robin', just close enough that they're shoulders brush against each other. The prince tries to grab the book for himself.

 

A huff, a puff of hot air. "Are you mocking me, Chrom?"

 

"Not really. I'm just stating a fact." He laughs to himself when he finally grabs the book. "Here you are, Robin."

 

"My name isn't Robin."

 

"Oh? Did you finally remember your past?! That's great news."

 

"Well, I-"

 

"Will you be leaving the Shepherds after the war, then? I'll be sad to see you go."  
  
  
"Exalt-"  
  
  
"But if you're able to return to your homeland, then I'll be nothing short of happiness."

 

_"Chrom."_

 

Venom laces his words. Chrom pauses, listens to what he has to say. The last of his words dying with his command, "Be silent."

 

He does. That's when the prince sees his eyes, for the first time in a while. They're red. Not the same shining gold that sparks with interest. These ones are dead. Nothing but glass. 'Robin's' hand sparks. It's not warm. It's cold. It's frightening. It's not something  _his_ Robin would wield. It threatens him with, every loose spark almost hitting his face and severing him right through the heart and-

 

"My name is _Grima_."

 

A flash.

 

"Remember it. The one you call _Robin_ is no longer here."

 

Then, darkness.

 

The next time he opens his eyes, Chrom sees stars, planets, and galaxies when he opens his eyes. When he blinks, everything is red. There are mountains of bones and mounds with stone crosses sticking out. His hand, his chest, his _everything_ burns as he spins around with the world and all he sees are familiar faces, blackened and bleeding. Among the chaos, he sees a dark mist emerging from the ground. Out of it comes Robin, weeping blood and reaching out with a hand that keeps glowing purple and eyes blood red. But, they're not like glass this time. They're the ones that Chrom sees when he's on the brink of losing himself, just accepting the tears and pains and breaking down into nothing but a child that's been forced to grow up.

 

Robin whines. _It hurts, Chrom. It hurts. It hurts. Please save me. Please._ It's unnatural, to say the least. Robin's voice keeps fading in and out, breaking like a record and tone changing as if he's possessed. 

 

It's hurting Chrom, too.

 

Within a moment's notice, his body moves on its own with Falchion in hand and legs making him run to him. Not to give him a hug. Not to slap Robin back into his senses. Chrom practically impales him, but when he looks up, it's not Robin staring back at him.

 

It's a corpse.

 

The exalt - _exalt? Since when?_ \- doesn't shout, or cry, or react, or do anything else but stay in place. Falchion glows, soft and warm. The corpse sends shivers under his skin. Somehow, it looks like they're hugging. Chrom has his hand on their shoulder, the other wrapping tightly around his sword's hilt. The corpse's hands drape around him, a web that he's trapped himself in.

 

A woman from the distance yells, _Father!_

 

And he replies, unsure of why he even does it. _Stay back! This is_ **my** _fight with Grima!_

 

* * *

 

... Grima.

 

Who is that?

 

Grima...

 

_Grima?_

 

* * *

 

The corpse growls. Flames lick the land. Darkness surrounds them. Nothing but. None can see past it, none can leave it, none should even face a darkness like no other. A cry, a shriek, a storm of names pass through Chrom's ears and he sees those soft eyes staring back at him through the corpse among the madness it brews. There's more noise, growing stronger and stronger and  _stronger_. 

 

Until Chrom could only hear one, faint voice.

 

* * *

 

**I am the Fell Dragon Grima.**

 

* * *

 

A man named Takumi is the one that wakes him up, a prince from another world that wields a mystic bow. Chrom automatically thinks of the stories of a man, shooting everything without fail while his gold hair flies with the mist that accompanied the Hero King. A random thing to think about the moment of his awakening. Has Chrom been that sleep deprived to think of sudden historical characters?

 

Prince Takumi tells him how another prince from his world, Leo, found Chrom barely breathing in the library. When he asks how that happened, all the Ylissean prince could give as a reply is a simple shake of a head. He doesn't remember how he ended up like that, all he can even think of relating to his unconsciousness is the painful white he remembers seeing and the gentle ache he has on his head and abdomen when that white disappears. And that strange dream of bodies reaching the sky and the world nothing more than a graveyard. Chrom feels a migraine coming. He leaves those thoughts as that.

 

He bids Prince Takumi good night and forces himself to rest. Maybe his mind will clear once he gets a good night's sleep. Maybe the pain of seeing light will disappear when he thinks of joyful moments with Lissa, Emmeryn, Frederick, and Robin.

 

Maybe.

 

Hopefully.

 

That's all he can do. Hope.

 

* * *

 

Chrom wakes up to flowers by his side and a book. Lavender and white heathers, only found in Askr. The book's title, he realizes, is of Hoshidan Legends. There's this aching familiarity nibbling at the corner of his mind, one that he simply shrugs off with a hearty smile.

 

Robin might love this book.

 

He leaves the healers' room, comes back to his own, and gingerly places the book and fauna by his nightstand. The Askran Prince, Alfonse, pays him a visit, with an invitation to tea over a war council. Chrom obliges. He changes into his usual garb, cape and sleeveless top and one pauldron, then straps Falchion to his side as he begins his walk to the meeting hall.

  
(Chrom notices how his sword has gained more weight. How could that be? Is he lacking in training, or has his arms failed him? It feels warm, too. It's all unrealistic. The prince decides to just shrug it off and continue onwards, even with the strange changes of his weapon and the constant whisper of someone's name in his ears.)

**Author's Note:**

> Grima, all alone in his very enemy's room, laughs as he examines the lavender and white hyacinths. A copy of Hoshidan Legends is left forgotten on his desk as he ponders on the flowers' meanings. 
> 
>  
> 
> Admiration. 
> 
> Protection. 
> 
> Wishes coming true. 
> 
> Indeed. Robin is an enigma. Grima can never understand why his vassal can ever love such a pitiful human. His chest stings with something, but he simply thinks nothing of it. Maybe it's the effects of the battle from yesterday. He'll need to steal some elixirs and food. Human bodies are so inefficient.
> 
> Grima takes a moment to ground himself when his vassal fights back. He swallows a name. Chrom's name. His eyes flicker from blood red to shining gold. 
> 
> It's painful.
> 
> The accursed dragon tries to reach inside him, hoping that he can somehow pull out Robin and throw him away with the rest of the corpses he's made.
> 
> It fails.


End file.
